The Force Arrives at Grandpa's
by Centralia Currie
Summary: Set several years after the last story in my Star Wars series, Luke is a pilot for the United States Air Force. Leia works for the United Nations. When her son becomes unruly, she and Han send him to live with his grandfather in Naboo, Nevada, where- as usual- nothing is quite normal.
1. Droid Mutiny

**Summary** : So, this story is concentrated in the same OOC universe as my previous _Star Wars_ fanfictions. Luke is now fully grown and works for the Air Force. Leia is married to Han, and has shipped their son Ben off to his grandfather for being unruly. Chaos ensues as Ben becomes obsessed with his grandfather!

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own these characters or _Star Wars_.

* * *

Luke Skywalker loved his job.

He was a Senior Airman in the United States Air Force, and he was based in the most exciting place in the world: northern Alaska. His team was researching and developing a type of aircraft that wouldn't need to be de-iced in the cold weather. This project could save airlines millions of dollars; when planes had to waste time being de-iced, flights were postponed. When flights were postponed, airlines lost bucketloads of money.

Luke also loved Northern Alaska. He lived in an apartment near the base, and he liked to pretend that the base was Planet Hoth. Timmy the Tauntaun, his favorite comic book character, lived on Planet Hoth. He even kept a stuffed Timmy in his room, next to his stuffed polar bear.

Keeping stuffed animals wasn't a childish thing to do. No sirree.

Going home, though, was a hassle. Luke had to take a private plane to Fairbanks, fly to Seattle, fly to Las Vegas, and then take another private plane to Naboo, Nevada, where his father lived. He had to take four different planes in total, and the trip took about a day.

But Luke hadn't been home in quite a while. In fact, when his superior told him that he'd earned two weeks' leave, Luke announced that he was taking his leave to visit his family in Nevada. His superior wished him luck.

Luke packed his stuffed tauntaun in his suitcase and took off for the base.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Naboo, Darth Vader was having his breakfast. This seemed like a perfectly normal activity, but the truth was, Darth couldn't eat at all: he wore a mask due to a disfiguring accident, and ate through a feeding tube. "Breakfast" meant that he read the paper and pretended to drink a cup of coffee.

"DROIDS!" he hollered as he turned a page of the paper at the dining room table. "GET ME MY COFFEE OR BE DESTROYED!"

The Skywalkers had two droids, R2D2 and C3PO. Vader was a retired from a company that wholesaled robotics parts, and he was able to build C3PO by himself decades ago. R2D2 was acquired by his wife, who'd died in a car crash decades ago. Darth, being the lazy person he was, used his droids for housework.

To Darth's amusement, a droid he'd never seen before maneuvered its way into the dining room. This droid was white and orange, and was combined of two spheres: one shaped like a softball, right on top of one shaped like a basketball. The two spheres rotated together so that the droid could move across the room.

As soon as the droid had reached the table, the basketball sphere opened to reveal a steaming hot cup of coffee. The droid reached out an arm and deposited the coffee right next to Darth's morning paper.

Darth just kept staring as the new droid rolled back to the kitchen.

"DROIDS!" Darth screamed, even louder than before. "EXPLAIN YOURSELVES OR BE DESTROYED!"

Instantly, C3PO bumbled his way into the dining room. "Oh, please don't be angry, Lord Vader," he stammered. "But you see, that horrible washing machine has broken down again. R2D2 is trying to diagnose the problem while I clean up the-"

"This is no time for excuses," Darth growled angrily. "What was that monstrosity that brought me my morning coffee today?"

"'Monstrosity' is a very strong word, Lord Vader," C3P0 trembled. "You see, BB8 is fully capable of running small errands for you while Artoo and I work on much larger problems-"

"Where did you get him?"

"We found him at the warehouse, sir. Artoo programmed him."

Darth had worked at S.I.T.H.L.O.R.D., a wholesaler of robotic parts and droids. Recently, the C.E.O., a man named Palpatine, had recently died in an incident involving a laser. The board of directors had appointed Darth to his position. Finally! Darth was going to be living out his dream—sit around, get paid megamillions, and delegate all the work!

Darth had been living out his dream for exactly one day when the finance officer came to him with the books: there was nothing left. S.I.T.H.L.O.R.D. was going to have to fold. They were in debt up to their heads, and they couldn't repay the debt.

Darth cursed Palpatine and announced he'd had it. It was time for him to retire.

As S.I.T.H.L.O.R.D. liquidated, Darth had been fooling around with parts in the warehouse. He'd started building a random droid, but it looked like Artoo had finished the job for him. Darth was upset, as anyone else would be whose droids were constructing other droids behind his back. Hell, this was droid mutiny, and there was no place for that in the Skywalker house. No sirree.

"BBS, or whatever his name is, is not welcome, do you understand?" Darth demanded as C3PO continued to apologize. "You deprogram him and put him in the garage."

"But-but-Mr. Vader-"

"No buts." Darth picked up his paper to read, leaving C3PO to sulk out of the room.

Suddenly, Darth had a brainstorm and lowered the paper again. "Wait, Threepio. I have a better idea."

"Sir?" C3PO turned around, looking hopeful. He really didn't want to deprogram BB8 after all of the hard work that Artoo had done.

"Give the new droid to the boy. He'll have something to play with."

Threepio froze. This really wasn't the outcome he wanted, but it was better than leaving BB8 to rot in the garage. "Yes, Lord Vader. Right away," Threepio told his master. "But don't you think the boy will be too rough on BB8?"

"I have already altered the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further," Vader replied crossly, picking up the paper once again. "And clean the princess' room. We don't have anywhere else for the Lukester to stay while he's here."

"Yes, Lord Vader," Threepio replied timidly.

Vader flipped the page again to the classifieds. Despite have to raise the spawn of the princess and that awful Solo kid, boredom was starting to set in…maybe he should find himself a new job.


	2. Ben's Name Change

**Disclaimer** : I don't own these characters or _Star Wars_.

* * *

Luke got nostalgic every time he was in Las Vegas. He wasn't even in the city proper, just at the airport waiting for the private plane to fly him to Naboo. But still, it was nostalgic.

Leia's godparents, the Organas, had taken Luke and Leia to Vegas for their high school graduation present. It had probably been the best trip of Luke's life. Sadly, now the Organas were both deceased.

Their house, Alderaan, had exploded.

It had happened about two years ago, and the most frustrating thing about the whole episode was the police's inability to solve the crime. Sure, there had been evidence found at the scene, but all of it had pointed to Owen Lars, who had passed away a few months prior in a freak barbecuing accident.

Luke knew that his father had blown up Alderaan with the Organas inside. Darth Vader had hated them for years. But every time Luke brought up the subject, Darth Vader's response was, "Son, how do you know what happened? _You weren't there_!"

"Dad, you were the only one who had access to Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru's after they died. Except for the detectives, and I couldn't see the _detectives_ killing the Organas!"

"Why not? Son _, you weren't there_! I still stand by my theory of the Organas having a gas leak in their basement that they didn't know about."

The deaths of Luke's godparents had been strictly an accident—Luke was even there when it had happened. But there was no doubt that the deaths of the Organas had been clear-cut murder. However, trying to talk to Dad about it was like trying to talk that new man on the base, Binks, into plastic surgery to fix his unusually long ears. Pointless.

But now both Luke and Leia's godparents were deceased, and there was nothing either of them could do about it. Sure, Luke had inherited his relatives' farm—he was renting it out until he retired from the military—and Leia had inherited about three million dollars, but they'd much rather have their godparents back.

Leia had needed the money. Real estate in Greenland was expensive. Han had wanted to live in Greenland because it was a remote place where he could relax.

"Bull," Luke had said to Leia over the phone in one of their rare long-distance calls. "He's at it again. Smuggling, I mean."

"You think I'm stupid?" Leia snapped to her brother. "I know he is!"

"You can't get involved in international weapons running and not have it turn into illegal smuggling, Leia. Why don't you divorce him?"

"He's never home, Luke, and neither am I. So it's almost like we're divorced already. I kind of like it this way."

Now, _this_ was the Leia that Luke knew, the Leia that couldn't stand Han Solo. She'd hated him up until college, when she discovered him bartending off campus. He wasn't enrolled in classes; Han had never been much of an academic. In fact, Luke was still certain that Han still spelled the word 'circle' with an 's.'

But Han had been a charmer, and an inebriated Leia had fallen for him. They'd developed a love-hate relationship. She hated him because he was still the jerk she'd known in high school, but she loved him because he was the one person she actually knew upon moving to New York City to enroll in Columbia's International Studies program, and he actually seemed to care for her and protect her.

She'd only married him because she'd ended up becoming pregnant with Ben. But now Ben was at the Anakin Skywalker Reform School in Naboo.

Leia had ended up representing Greenland, her adopted home country, as a non-voting observer in the United Nations. So everything had worked out for Leia, and Han, and possibly Ben—if Luke's father could talk some sense into that rebellious grandson of his.

* * *

"Grandpa, I want to change my name."

Darth Vader looked over his newspaper, which he was still busy reading at the dining room table. His grandson, Ben Solo, was moodily eating his Space-O's.

"You do, son? That's swell. I always knew you were going to be a Skywalker. Ben Skywalker, that's what it'll be, right? I didn't know what your mother was thinking, marrying that Solo kid." Ben was Darth's grandson, but Darth still called him 'son' out of pure laziness.

"Actually, Grandpa," said Ben quietly. "I'm _really_ changing my name. I want to be Kylo Ren."

"Kyle _who_?"

"Kylo Ren." Ben paused. "It sounds goth, and punk, and edgy. What do you think?"

"Well, grandkiddo, you still have to remember that a name change is lifelong. Do you still want to be Kyle Remm when you're fifty?"

"It's Kylo Ren, Grandpa, and yes, I want to."

"I don't know, son. What will your mother say about you changing your name?"

"I don't have to officially _change_ it," Ben pointed out. "I mean, your name is still Anakin Skywalker on paper, but everyone knows to call you Darth Vader."

Darth paused. "You're right."

"So, from now on, I want everyone calling me Kylo Ren."

Darth shrugged, figuring it was just some dumb phase his grandson would grow out of sooner or later. "Alright, then." He picked up the paper again. "By the way, clean your room. I don't want your Uncle Luke to see what a slob you are."

"Uncle Luke doesn't have to go into my room."

"Well, it used to be _his_ room, so he might want to see what you've done with it."

"Fine," Ben rolled his eyes. He bent down and gave BB8 a soft kick. "BB8, clean my room."

BB8 motored off, beeping unrepeatable swear words.

"Aren't you excited about seeing your Uncle Luke?" Darth asked from behind the paper.

"No."

"Why not?"

"He's so weird, Grandpa. Last time I saw him was when I was ten, and he didn't talk to me because he was on some sort of Jedaist vow of silence for an entire month."

"Er—well, that's because your Uncle Luke is very…spiritual."

"Yeah, whatever," Ben replied gloomily.


	3. Anakin's

**Disclaimer** : I don't own these characters or _Star Wars_.

 **Update** : I'll be going out of town soon for a couple of weeks, and I'll have minimal Internet access. This will be my last update for a couple of weeks. But I'll try to continue this when I come back in mid-August!

* * *

"Master Luke! Master Luke!"

Luke was grabbing his luggage off the belt in the tiny Naboo airport when he turned around and saw a familiar gold-plated droid heading toward him.

"Threepio!" Luke exclaimed, brightening. He hadn't seen C3PO in ages.

"Oh, Master Luke, I don't usually succumb to these human emotions, but I find myself becoming nostalgic at moments like these!"

Luke hugged the family droid, picked up his luggage, and followed C3PO out the doors of the airport. "Is Dad here?"

"Oh, no, Master Luke. Your father and nephew are engaged in some of Jedaist sword-fighting lesson. R2D2, though, has figured out how to program the car and drive it safely back to the house without any need of human assistance."

Luke paused for just a nanosecond, then brushed the thought out of his mind. If C3PO was confident enough that droids could drive cars, well—then R2D2 _had_ to be a good driver.

"Sword-fighting lesson?" Luke asked skeptically as they crossed the street from the airport dropoff lane to the parking lot.

"Yes, your father seems to think that young Master Ben has to be schooled in the Jedaist religion." Pause. "Oh, well, I should say Master Kylo now. Young Master Ben has requested a name change. Oh, how your father spoils that child, Master Luke. Just this morning, your father gave him his own droid, BB8. It was R2D2 that really programmed BB8, but your father insisted he go to your nephew."

"I worry," Luke admitted as they reached a black Cadillac Escalade. Darth Vader was never known to drive any other type of car. C3PO opened the trunk, and Luke loaded his luggage in the back. "Leia says that Ben—er, _Kylo_ —has anger issues. Why would you give a droid to someone who has anger issues?"

"Master Luke, your father has the biggest anger issues I've ever experienced with a human, and Artoo and I have gotten through the past thirty years pretty much unscathed. So I guess it is possible."

"True." Luke went around to the passenger side of the car, opened the front door, and hopped in.

R2D2 beeped out a greeting, then started the vehicle. It was time to go home.

* * *

Ben-slash-Kylo was different from what Luke expected. Luke was anticipating a typical teenager, but this was definitely far from typical.

Ben/Kylo was dressed all in black, with greasy black hair down to his shoulders. His skin was so pale that he looked like he'd spent the last ten years hiding underground. His lip was pierced, and he had huge, bushy eyebrows.

"Hi, Kylo, I'm your Uncle Luke," Luke smiled, setting his luggage down in the Skywalkers' living room and offering his hand to his nephew.

Kylo didn't shake his uncle's hand, but simply nodded in acknowledgement

"Nice lip ring you got there," Luke offered, trying to make friendly conversation. "Where'd you get it done? Greenland?"

"Oh, I'm taking it out," Kylo said in his low voice. "Grandpa says I'll look better without it."

Luke raised an eyebrow. _He was actually_ listening _to his grandfather?_

"Well, I'm glad that you and your grandfather are getting along." R2D2 began pushing Luke's bags towards Leia's childhood room. Luke raised a hand to R2D2 in a silent thank-you. "What's your grandfather up to now that he's retired?"

"Complaining. About everything."

Luke lowered his voice to a whisper. "Does he ever mention anything about the Organas, your mother's godparents? I'm almost certain _he_ blew up their house."

"Oh, he talks about them all the time, but he just complains. He says that even though Mr. Organa is gone, the state Senate continues with his stupid policies. Grandpa says that it's in the Constitution that we have the right to bear arms, so he's buying up all of the weapons he can afford before the stupid government can change the law. Mr. Organa was against owning guns."

 _Yep, sounds like Dad all right_ , Luke thought ruefully.

"KIDDO!" Darth had appeared in the living room doorway, arms outstretched for a hug.

Luke walked over to him and hugged his father. "Hey, Dad! What's going on?"

Darth sighed angrily. "You've got to keep an eye on these blasted droids, I tell you, son. They've done near committed droid mutiny. They've been building an army of droids behind my back-"

"I heard it was only _one_ ," said Luke, confused.

Darth ignored him. "And blasted Palpatine drove S.I.T.H.L.O.R.D. right into the ground. He burned the books, so it looks like I'm going to have to look for another job. I wonder if EmpireCorp is hiring-"

"You hated your job with EmpireCorp, Dad. And aren't you retired?"

"—but I'm going to have to work from home, yes sirree. I'm not moving back to Tattooine anytime soon. Blasted desert, blasted neighbors, blasted Solo kid-"

"He's Kylo's father, and he's married to Leia, and there's nothing you can do about it," Luke told his father, rolling his eyes.

"-blasted Kenobi calling me up every week and telling me I'm overdue for a physical. Luke, I am your father, and I say I find Tattooine's lack of common sense disturbing…"

Luke clapped a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Show me what you've done with your room. He could be a while," he whispered to his nephew.

And so, uncle and nephew retreated upstairs, leaving Darth to ramble on to an empty living room.

* * *

"I'm going back to work," Darth announced at dinner that evening.

Luke and Kylo just stared at each other from across the dining room table as R2D2 was refilling their beverages. _Uh-oh_ , they both seemed to be saying silently to each other.

"I'm going to open my own business establishment," Darth was saying. "It'll be called 'Anakin's.'"

"What is 'Anakin's' going to sell?" Luke asked his father, bracing himself for the answer.

"Oh, weapons, of course, son. Anakin's is an acronym for, 'ANother Armed Konstituent In Naboo.'"

Luke ran through the phrase in his head. "Dad," he finally said, "the word 'constituent' is spelled with a 'c,' not a 'k.'"

"I know that, son, but I have to do it this way for the name to fit. The only other name for the business I could think of was Vader's, or Very Angry Dwellers Eradicating the Republic, and that just sounded offensive and tasteless. 'Anakin's' sounds much better."

Luke thought it sounded stupid.

"But Grandpa, you have to get a license to sell weapons," Kylo spoke up.

"Like hell I do, grandkiddo. We're just going to have to be extra careful to avoid getting caught by the authorities."

"But Dad, you can't just set up a storefront with guns in the window and expect not to get caught," said Luke impatiently.

"Lukester, your old man has thought of everything. We're going to be fronted by a dry-cleaning business."

Luke just stared. _Dry-cleaning_? His father, _dry-cleaning_?

 _Well, the droids would do all the dry-cleaning_ , he reasoned with himself. That's what the droids were for—chores.

"I'm going to help," Kylo announced, throwing his fork down on his plate. "I'm going to drop out of school and work at Anakin's!"

Luke pushed aside his half-finished dinner and slammed his head down on the dining room table. Leia was going to kill their father.


	4. Luke's Plan

**Disclaimer** : I don't own these characters or _Star Wars_.

 **Update** : Here we go again.

* * *

"WHAT?"

Luke had braced himself for his sister's reply, and there it was. "Yep," he grinned. He and Leia were speaking over the phone later that night; while it was midnight in Naboo, Nevada, it was dawn in Greenland. "Dad's opening an arms dealership disguised as a dry cleaner's, and your brilliant son wants to drop out of school and work there." Luke cursed the phone for not having one of those curly 1980s phone cords that attached to the wall; now was an ultimate curl-your-finger-in-the-cord-to-prevent-stress moment.

"My brilliant son needs a high school diploma." Leia sighed angrily. Luke heard her stomp her feet aggressively in the background. "I sent him to Dad so that Dad could _talk some sense_ into him, but dammit, Luke, he's sending Ben _down the wrong road_!"

"Dad's problem is that he's bored, and needs a new job. Retirement doesn't suit him," Luke explained. "So he's opening his own business."

"An ARMS DEALERSHIP?"

"It's all political, sis. He's afraid that gun ownership will become illegal in Nevada, so he's resorted to selling them under the table. He's all about the second amendment and putting down everything that your godfather stood for." Duh. Leia should have known that.

"Speaking of the godfather, do we have a confession yet?" Leia too believed that Darth Vader was guilty of the Organas' murders.

"Nope, and we're not likely to get one. _What'll I do_ , Leia? I don't want to see Ben drop out of school to work for Dad, and neither do you."

"Get Dad to compromise on the job thing," Leia suggested. "As long as Ben stays in school and keeps his grades up, he can work evenings and weekends at Anakin's." Leia was all about compromising. She worked at the _United Nations_ , for pete's sake.

"I think this whole thing is stupid," Luke muttered. "By the way, where's Tina? I brought Timmy the Tauntaun all the way down from Alaska to see his buddy, and she's not here."

"Oh, I had Dad ship her to me after the Organas passed. She was a gift to me from them, remember?"

Luke sighed pathetically. "So, unless we pay you a visit, Timmy is never going to see his lady taun again? No plush tauntaun wedding with the bride wearing a veil and the groom piling on stinky cologne made of tauntaun excrement?

"'Fraid not," Leia grinned over the phone.

Damn.

* * *

Ben had taken out his piercing as promised, and Luke's father had been right; he really did look better without it. Except now, he had picked up a strange new habit: he had resorted to wearing long, black robes as clothes. With the black hair down to his shoulders, he looked like some kind of minister performing a sacrifice for a Satanic cult.

"What the hell?" Luke had to exclaim aloud in disdain as Ben came down to breakfast the following morning. "What kind of a getup is that, Ben? You start school like that, everyone'll think you're bent on world domination."

"My name is Kylo, and I'm not going to school." Ben/Kylo bit his lip in impatience.

"Yes you are, if you want that job at Anakin's. Your mother's rule."

"You're talking to Mom, aren't you, Uncle Luke?" Ben pointed a spoon at his uncle is accusation.

" _Of course_ I'm talking to your mother! She's my sister!"

"Kiddos!" Darth Vader sailed into the room in the happiest of moods, and for once, Luke was frightened. Never in the history of the Skywalker household had his father been this happy. "Kiddos, today's going to be a great day. Kylo, you and I are going to go meditating, and then we're going to go out to the laundering supply store and purchase dry cleaning equipment for Anakin's. We're going to have to take the droids with us, so they know how to operate the equipment."

"I'm ready!" Kylo announced, pouring himself an entire mixing bowl full of Space-o's.

"Dad, Kylo isn't working at Anakin's unless he's enrolled in school and doing well in school," Luke told his father firmly. "Because, let's face it, he needs a high school diploma."

"Er—well, of course, you're absolutely right, Lukester. We couldn't have a high school dropout working at a Skywalker-owned establishment, no sirree! So I guess we're going to have to make a side trip to the local high school to get Kylo started at school here in Naboo."

Kylo sent a death stare to his Uncle Luke.

"DROIDS!" Meanwhile, Darth began his morning ritual of screaming at everything that wasn't exactly human. "BRING ME MY MORNING COFFEE, OR BE DESTROYED!"

* * *

After the grandfather-and-grandson morning meditation session, three humans and three droids piled into Darth's Cadillac Escalade for their trip to the laundering supply store, of which there was one right in Naboo. It included all that one needed to dry clean or set up a dry cleaning business.

It was probably the reason that Darth wanted a dry cleaning establishment to front his arms dealership. The supplies were easy to get.

Darth scared the hell out of the manager, so C3PO took the helm. He explained that they wanted to set up a new dry cleaning business right there in Naboo, and they'd have to purchase some equipment.

The manager, a large bald guy, pawned the group off to one of his employees, and went into his office to pour a glass of cold water on his head. He needed it after seeing Darth Vader walk through his door.

Kylo, who wasn't interested in dry cleaning, sat in a corner and took his laptop out of his backpack. "I'm going to start making a website for Anakin's," he announced to his Uncle Luke.

"Don't forget the Facebook page," Luke advised. "And nothing illegal on the website, where it can be easily traced."

"Yep."

Luke followed his father and the droids throughout the warehouse and began to think. He knew his father better than anybody, and no amount of arm-twisting was going to talk Darth Vader out of opening Anakin's. It didn't matter how angry Luke got, how much Luke would complain it was a bad idea, or how many years of prison time Darth would get for an illegal arms dealership. Darth Vader lived by his own rules.

Luke never thought he'd stoop to this level, but he knew that it was time for him to fight fire with fire.

He'd destroy Anakin's with good old-fashioned sabotage.

"Time to launch Plan Tauntaun," he texted Leia.

"Plan Tauntaun?" Leia texted back a few minutes later.

"Yep. Tauntaun. T.A.U.N.T.A.U.N. Toppling An Unusual Nutcase Through An Unusual Notion. I'm going to destroy Anakin's…anonymously."

"Good luck," Leia texted back. "And keep Ben away from the firearms, will you?"


	5. The Last Straw

**Disclaimer** : I don't own these characters or _Star Wars_.

 **Update** : Thank you for all of your kind reviews! I love making people laugh; I grew up very shy, so I didn't know I had it in me. I know this just an online forum, and I've never met any of you, but knowing that I have actual people looking forward to each new chapter of my stories puts a spring in my step with each new day.

* * *

It was midnight, and Luke Skywalker was in his "special place"…the attic of the Skywalker home.

He hadn't discovered the attic until he was a senior in high school. C3PO had used Leia's excess closet space (of which there wasn't a lot, with her being Leia and all) to store holiday decorations, so one day, while fetching a box of lights for Threepio, Luke had accidentally discovered a panel on the ceiling of Leia's closet that led to a crawl space above the house.

As far as he knew, nobody else knew about it, not even Leia.

Well…R2D2 knew about it, of course. R2D2 knew everything. This afternoon, Luke had caught R2D2 trying to hang some kind of tapestry from the ceiling to cover the ceiling panel.

So Luke quickly recruited R2D2 into Plan Tauntaun.

"So, here's my plan," Luke whispered to R2D2 in the dark attic, with only a bare bulb dangling from the ceiling for light. "The delivery guys are going to deliver the new laundry equipment on Thursday. You get to work and re-wire some of the circuits in all of the machines, so the machines won't work anymore. That'll put off the opening of Anakin's for at least another week while Dad orders more equipment.

"And THEN," Luke continued, "we're just going to keep sabotaging the new machines that come in, and eventually, Dad's going to give up on the whole idea. He'll move onto something else and forget this whole stupid thing."

R2D2 beeped out a statement.

Luke understood everything he was saying. "Oh, I know Dad'll blame you _at first_ , but I'll try my best to convince him that the laundry equipment shop is just substandard, and all of their equipment is crap. Hopefully, he'll agree." Luke paused, and looked around the crawl space, even though he knew nobody else was there. "Okay, now, we can't tell anyone about this, right? We can't tell Threepio, because he can't keep his mouth shut. We can't tell BB8, either, because I don't trust him just yet. We can't tell anybody, Artoo. _Nobody_."

R2D2 beeped in the affirmative. He wasn't going to tell anyone of Plan Tauntaun.

"All right. Shake on it?" Luke held out his hand.

Artoo raised one of his robot arms, and shook Luke's hand.

"Plan Tauntaun is now underway," Luke whispered as he made for the hole to climb back down into Leia's closet.

* * *

"Good morning, Ky- HOLY CRUD!"

Luke Skywalker's expression had gone from tired to curious to shocked to outraged in three point five. His nephew was at breakfast the next morning in not only the same black robes that he had worn the day before, but today he had added a black helmet, similar to the one that Darth wore.

The eyes and mouth Kylo's mask were different, but the shock value was the same. What the hell.

"When Anakin's opens up, I'm going to wear a black helmet, just like Granddad!" Kylo announced through his mask. Luckily, he didn't have the heavy breathing that Darth had, and was easier for Luke to understand. "In fact, it should be the company uniform!"

"Kylo, you were at the laundry equipment store yesterday. You _saw_ how that manager reacted to Dad; he was _scared to death_ of him! Dad is the only masked nut we need in this family."

"Well, Uncle Luke, if people are scared, they shouldn't come to Anakin's," Kylo replied matter-of-factly. "We'll have weapons."

"True," Luke replied, eyes narrowing.

At that moment, Darth entered the dining room, untouched cup of coffee in his hand. "Kiddos, anyone want the rest of my coffee?"

He never touched it. He only poured it to look normal.

"I will finish what you started," Kylo said in a determined tone, and accepted the mug half-filled with black coffee. Raising his mask with his left hand and holding the mug with his right, he held the mug up to his lips and slurped.

"This is getting out of hand," Luke frighteningly whispered to Threepio behind him, who had just come into the dining room with Luke's breakfast.

"I rather agree with you, Master Luke. Should you call his father, or should I?"

"You want to call Han?" Luke was surprised.

"Of course, Master Luke. I right think that Master Ben's father should be informed if his son intends to mimic and obsess over his grandfather."

"You're right," Luke murmured. "I'll give Han a call this afternoon. I sure hope he answers his phone, and that he's somewhere in the Western Hemisphere, because I have no clue where in the world he is."

* * *

Luke could barely hear Han Solo.

From the sounds of things, Han was in the middle of the ocean, sleeping off a drunken stupor. There was also static on the line that made Han near impossible to hear.

Han switched to some other line, and all was well.

"Han, it's Luke Skywalker." Once again, Luke was talking in his "secret place." He didn't want anyone else to overhear the conversation. "Listen, you've got to come to Naboo."

"Why?" Han grumbled.

"Well, your son Ben is here, and he's supposed to be here so that Dad can straighten him out, but instead, Dad is _ruining_ him. Ben's started dressing like Dad, and he's acting like Dad, and he and Dad are opening up an illegal weapons racket together."

Silence on the other end of the line.

"Han, old buddy, can you hear me?"

"Shit." Han paused. "Yeah, Luke, loud and clear. I'll be in Naboo as soon as I can." _Click_.

"How'd it go, Master Luke?" C3PO asked from down below. He was pretending to clean the floor of Leia's closet.

"As well as can be expected," Luke replied as he poked his head out through the hole of the ceiling, confused. "He says he'll be here as soon as he can."

"Oh, dear," was Threepio's only comment.


End file.
